Pulling a Trick – Entry Twenty Eight

There are times when there is nothing you can do but look up at the nighttime sky.
The world is in its own way, and us, well?
Who knows who we are?
I suppose we are nothing more than two travelers, just trying to pull a trick, or hoping to find a good view of a nice sunset. Or, maybe we can find a good bowl of soup.
Who knows?

Life has its crazy turns. We know this.
I say this is enough to make you curse or spit or shake your fists at the sky.
I say there is often a great divide and often stages of confusion.
Fucking life, right?
There are moments that are intense, as if everything is about to boil over, or break, or as if something unknown and unfortunate is in the mail.
Life can be this way. No one talks about this, but it’s true.
Something is in the mail and whatever it is, it’s on the way. That’s for sure.
Do you know what this is?
This is the nature of impending doom, or the darkness of the unknown, which is enough to make anyone lose their mind—that is, if they haven’t lost it already.
And me, I lost my mind a long time ago.

Fear of the unknown or fear of the dark, fear of an upcoming change, or fears of the “on the way” devastation, which are ideas that we assume, by the way, and we wager on this, heavily, in fact.
We swear this is the problem and that the worst is yet to come.

 I am sure there is no one who will disagree that life can be unkind or unfair. I wouldn’t say that life is always unkind or unfair. Maybe life is neither and all else is only relative.
And again, who knows?
But, I do know that plans fall apart, good things turn sour, life turns upside down and, of course, my question about these things is what do you do?
Where’s the trick?

By the way, anxiety is common. Fear is common. Depression is common and so are the contents of my paragraphs above. At the same time, there is a need to guard these truths, as if to hide our imperfections and our vulnerabilities; in which case, I say to hell with this.
I’ve hid my entire life.
No one really knows my truth (except for you) because I was always afraid that someone would use this against me, like in an argument, just to be mean or hurtful.

I’m not hiding anything anymore. Not me.
Not my feelings. Not my imperfections.
Not my truths, which are not always flattering.
I have good qualities. I know I do.
However, human nature leads us to notice the aspects that fail to put us in the greatest light. However, and in all fairness, most people avoid the light of truth.
The truth is brilliant, but we hide from this because the light exposes our darkness. I know that I have read this before about the demons and how the demons were afraid of the light because this exposed the darkness of their deeds.
And this is true.
I ran from the truth for most of my life.
(If not all of it.)
Do you know what this makes me?
Aside from being dishonest with others and myself, this makes me human.
I am not fit to cast the first stone, as they say, and neither is anyone else that I’ve met.
I am not sinless or anywhere close to being a saint.
Then again, who is?

It is clear that we judge, and we persecute. It is clear to me that we are creatures that love to point fingers—so long as the fingers do not point inwards at us.
Am I right?

But to hell with that.
I was told that people are as sick as their secrets.
I can see why this is true.
I can see why our internal dishonesties or how insecurity, or how the ongoing stream of conflicting thoughts can cause us to tumble and fall.
I can see how anyone would self-destruct or implode when the pressure gets too intense.

I can see what internal hate does.
I can see what complacency does.
I know what procrastination does too, but I’m waiting for the right time to deal with that.

I can see what happens when everything goes downhill, the shit hits the fan, and I can see why we lose our mind or why we expect the worst is always yet to come.
I can see why we view the glass as half-empty.
I can see why we refuse to trust (again) or why we refuse to allow ourselves the details of love, and yes, I can see why pains linger throughout the mind. I can see that somehow, the pain becomes systemic, as if to burden our subconscious thinking. I can see why we are afraid of the dark or why we are afraid to let go. And sure, I know why we hold on to old rituals of pain or tragic memories.
We never forget these, do we?

Could you imagine if there was some kind of magic word like, maybe, “Presto-change-o” and then with a wave of the hand (enter the imagination and dramatic approach of us as the mad magicians) and suddenly, all of the burdens disappear.
All of the past woes and the challenged memories and the unresolved battles or disputes are solved by the magic words, “Presto-change-o!” the emotional quicksand evaporates.
Vanished into thin air.

This is magic.
I’m not talking about pulling a rabbit out of my hat. I’m not talking about changing a few colored ribbons into a white dove and letting the bird fly away—although, in fairness to the “presto-change-o” idea, I think changing our burdens into a white dove is a great symbol for hope and peace.

Sometimes, there are no magic words.
Sometimes, we find ourselves trying so hard to make something fit or to make something work, but life doesn’t work this way.
I agree that love from the heart is both heavy and light. I agree that love is life and if life is not always going to be easy, then the same would be true when it comes to love.

So, what’s the trick?
Is there one?

Therefore, I do solemnly swear that I am a person who is afraid.
Wait, no. I am petrified.
I am not strong. Then again, strength is always relative.
So, perhaps I am like a superhero to some people; however, and in the case of me pulling a trick or two, or in the efforts of me pulling off the greatest trick of all, which is not only to get by and survive, but to smile along the way, I want to mean something to myself.
I want to find the magic words and solve the riddles in my head.
I want to build. I want to create, and I want to dance.
I want to laugh and not be concerned about the imperfections of my smile.
Better yet, I want to be happy and not fear the thefts of service which come from selfish people.

I want to say “presto-change-o,” and with the wave of my hands, all the burdens and the past, and all of the resentments, and all the rest of the nonsense and bullshit would simply vanish or disappear.
Wouldn’t that be nice?

What is life when burdened with shame or guilt?
I would say that this is not life at all, but more, this is what it means to be dying alive or living “lifeless.”
How does one live when all they expect is the worst to come around the bend?
And when it does, how does one recover from their falls if all they expect to do is fall again?
How does one experience joy when their addiction to misery is unseen and so engrained that happiness is like a foreign discomfort?
I see this like sand in the belly of an oyster, to which, sure, this creates something beautiful to the rest of the world.
But to an oyster?
No, this isn’t beautiful.
It’s an itch that can’t be scratched and it won’t go away.

I can say that I know how that feels—the itch that won’t go away, I mean.
And sure, someone else might see beauty when they look at me—but what would this mean if all I see are burdens in my mental reflection?
Or when a person sees themselves in the mirror, how would they see their own beauty if all they saw are past insults or the intrusions which broke their heart?
Would this allow them to see their beauty, or would this burden them with an ugly truth?
What about the emotional injuries?
What about the things that happen to people that cause them to flinch, each time they see something promising? To be clear, we flinch because we’re afraid to drop the mask or let go of the pain.
We’re afraid to let go of the pain because, in the end, we all want to be happy. But no one wants to be disappointed (again) and then what?
Where does the smile go?
What happens to the joy if the joy vanishes, which is why people refuse to let go?
What happens if we let go of something hurtful and then the pain comes back?
See?
This isn’t because we don’t want to be rid of the past.
No, this is because what happens if we do, and then the past comes back again?

I have heard the term, it’s too good to be true.
And many times, yes.
This is true.
Someone sold us a bill of goods and in the end; it was all too good to be true.
I get that.

But, wait.
What if we were to experience joy that was so meaningful, or so brilliant, or like sunrays that warm the skin, what if something isn’t too good to be true?
But instead, this is like the moments of dawn, which are heaven-sent, and although we struggled before; we deserve this so much, and so deeply that in reality, it’s not too good to be true.
It’s too good not to be true.

I am wounded, no differently from anyone else in this world.
I have my share of invisible scars and admittedly, I can attest to the quote that says, “if you don’t heal from what hurt you, you will bleed on people who didn’t cut you.”
I’m sure you can relate to this too.

I’m not tough.
I’m not that cool.
I’m not that strong.
In fact, I’m kind of weak.
At the same time, I’m here to expose this to you because this is the strongest thing I can do.

To be honest:
I am unfair at times. I am a grouch. I can go for a few days in the same sweatpants and not shower and not care. I can let dishes pile up in the sink better than anyone else.
I am not a good cleaner or the quicker, picker upper.
I can’t fold laundry to save my own ass.
I am immature, which is not always a bad thing
(unless I don’t get my way, I guess).
I’m afraid of the dark.
I still tuck the blanket underneath my feet when sleeping in bed because I was deathly afraid of the “Feetie Monsters” under the bed when I was a little kid.
I’m 52 and I still do this.

I am a work in progress.
And so are you.
I’m sorry for my imperfections.
They tend to get away from me sometimes . . .
And my mouth . . .
yeah, well. This is what gets me into trouble
(even on good days).
But like the song says:
“I don’t want to wait for our lives to be over.”

So, here it goes.
Presto-Change-O
There you go.
I said the magic words
and I waved my hands, like a mad magician.

Now, let’s see if the trick works.